


The Problem with Boats and Telepaths

by KateLouisaRose



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild slash, Seasickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:05:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateLouisaRose/pseuds/KateLouisaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The journey they were making for this mutant kid definitely wasn’t worth the trouble, Erik had just decided." <br/>Set during one of Erik and Charles' scouting trips in 'First Class', which requires a boat that Erik really isn't comfortable being on, until Charles is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem with Boats and Telepaths

The sea air was cold and tasted of salt and brine. Erik gripped the railing, flecks of rust coming off on his hands, and hung his head over the side where the water churned frothy and white with the low murmur of the engines. He closed his eyes against the sun, which was punishingly bright and throbbed behind his eyelids, and retched again, his empty stomach lurching with the motion of the boat on the waves.

Charles was probably inside, getting all chummy with the posh passengers of the small cruise ship and chowing down a proper English breakfast with black pudding and caviar or whatever else like the snob he was. Erik’s stomach gave another heave and he braced himself again, a spray of salt water hitting him full in the face as the boat ploughed through a wave. If anything, it seemed the sea was getting rougher.

The journey they were making for this mutant kid definitely wasn’t worth the trouble, Erik had just decided, when someone put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and pressed a glass of water into his hand.

“Drink, you’ll feel better.” Charles said in a voice which left no room for argument. Erik did as he was told and hung his head back over the railing.

“I spoke to the captain,”

_Of course you did._ Erik thought bitterly for no real reason other than it was _cold_ and he was _ill._

“He doesn’t think the journey’s going to get smoother any time soon I’m afraid.” Charles said apologetically, his hand rubbing small circles on Erik’s back, which only made him hyper-aware of how much he just wanted to curl up into a ball and have someone hold him until they were back on solid ground. He gave a miserable groan and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Look at the horizon,” Charles offered helpfully.

“Tried,” Erik replied, holding the glass so tight he was scared it was going to break.

Charles sighed and joined him in resting his forearms on the railings and staring pensively at the water beneath them.

“I wish I’d known you weren’t good with boats; I would have let you sit this one out, my friend.” Charles said sympathetically. Erik just thought back to their shared room and how nice and dark it would be in there. It was at the back of the boat so that had to be better too, he reasoned.

“I actually thought you’d like it, all this metal around us and everything.”

Erik grunted. In the state he was in he couldn’t even think about bending metal, except perhaps to bend the ship in half and bring him the sweet release of death.

“Take me back to the room.” Erik commanded, although it came out more like a desperate plea for mercy than anything else. Charles dutifully put an arm around his middle and guided him back inside.

As they made their way through the interior on unsteady legs they passed the dining room and a very beautiful blonde waitress, who gave Charles a flirtatious smile and a small wave. Charles grinned back and the waitress shot a pitying glance in Erik’s direction. Charles made a ‘yeah I know’ face and she continued down the corridor.

“She was pretty,” Erik mumbled, Charles taking most of his weight. Charles looked at Erik’s sickly looking face and his arm tightened around his waist.

“Yes, she certainly was.”

* * *

Their room was mercifully one of the first they came to, and Charles unlocked it quickly and hurried Erik inside. Erik collapsed on the nearest bed and shoved his face into the pillow. After a few moments of realising that Erik was very much not in the mood to get off of _his_ bed, Charles sat on the opposite bed, the one which was actually Erik’s, and kicked his shoes off. He looked at his friend for another long moment and then stood up, peering out of their tiny window and then back at the sprawled figure of the usually so composed Erik Lehnsherr on his bed.

It wasn’t as rough in here, but he could still feel the floor undulating rhythmically.  Erik lifted his head and Charles smiled at him, walking to the wall and flicking the lights off. He drew the little curtains around the window too and the room was plunged into blissful darkness.

“Want anything?” Charles’ disembodied voice asked quietly.

“Sleep.” Erik grumbled, reaching blindly for Charles’s arm but grabbing his leg by accident. Charles stumbled a little and narrowly managed to avoid falling onto Erik by sitting heavily on the bed next to his head.

“With me?” Charles asked with a laugh.

“I meant to tell you to… to go away. I was trying to get you to go, if you want.” Erik explained dozily.

“Oh, alright.” Charles said, sounding not at all bothered.

“Or stay.” Erik’s voice was muffled by Charles’s pillow.

Charles stood up and took two steps to Erik’s bed in the small room, retrieving a second pillow and pushing it under Erik’s head. He went to drag their little metal bin over in case of emergencies but it began to scrape along the floor towards Erik by itself before he could try. Charles watched it move in the gloom and smirked.

“See? You’re feeling better already.”

Erik made an indistinguishable noise and vomited into the bin.

* * *

As the sun went down, Erik finally rolled over and stared blindly at the ceiling. He could see Charles across the room, cocooned in a little pool of light from the bedside lamp, reading.

“Am I in your bed?” Erik asked. Charles looked up and his expression relaxed from intense concentration to relief.

“Yes. You fell on it, don’t you remember?”

Erik ran a hand through his hair and sat up slowly. The bin in front of him was empty. He looked at Charles and felt suddenly guilty.

“Sorry,”

Charles shrugged, closing the book and stretching.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked as Erik made his way to the miniature sink in one corner of their room and splashed his face with cold water.

“Tea would be lovely.” Erik replied sheepishly. Charles gave him a look which was almost fond, and grabbed his jacket and the key to their room on his way out.

“You can carry on chatting up that waitress if you like,” Erik said before he left. “But if you bring her back here I will definitely shoot you.” Charles stopped and laughed.

“How charitable of you; but I must remind you that you didn’t bring a gun. Or bullets.”

“Anything’s a bullet if I try hard enough.” Erik said menacingly. “Besides, if I had a gun I’d have got you to shoot me by now.”

“You’re really not feeling any better?”

Erik felt another rush of guilt and hid his face in the towel which hung on a rack beside the basin.

“A bit.”

Charles smiled smugly and left the room.

* * *

Erik was asleep again when Charles returned. He was lying with an arm over his face but otherwise he looked better. He had some colour in his cheeks and he was in his own bed which was a good sign. Charles set the tea down beside him and gave Erik’s shoulder a gentle shake. Erik stirred, cracking open an eye and smiling faintly.

“Thanks,” he said, gesturing to the tea.

“I got these too,” Charles said, handing him a strip of tiny pills in their individual foil and plastic pods.

“For the sickness.” Charles explained. Erik looked down at them and then back up at kind, attentive Charles.

“Thanks, but I think I’m OK.” Erik said at last.

Charles nodded and sat down on Erik’s bed, watching him drink.

“So, did you get anywhere with the waitress?” Erik pressed. The look Charles gave him was strange, but then, Erik knew he wasn’t good at reading people like Charles was.

“No.” Charles replied, pulling at his shirt cuff. Erik didn’t want to analyse the lurch of his stomach which definitely wasn’t the sickness returning. He leant into Charles a little, their shoulders brushing.

“You can do better.” He said in a moment of uncharacteristic compassion. Charles scoffed at that and didn’t give any sign of moving away.

* * *

“I suppose you’re used to this.” Erik said from one end of the bed. Charles raised his head from the pillow to look at Erik, who was propped up against the wall with the thimble from the complimentary sewing kit rotating slowly in his palm.

“I bet you went on loads of posh cruises as a child.”

Charles laughed at that, and nearly dropped the book he was reading on his own face.

“Not quite,” he corrected, putting the book on the nightstand. “I hated boat trips and anything to do with the water until I was about twelve. I found out that if what I was feeling was for the most part psychological I could control it. I haven’t been seasick since.”

Erik gave him a thoughtful look. “Interesting,” he said, sending the thimble into the air and catching it with his other hand as it fell. Charles folded his hands over his stomach and watched him.

“Wish I’d let you inside my head earlier when I was bent over the side of this bloody boat.” Erik said mildly. Charles blanched.

“No, thank you.” Erik laughed, and then looked out the crack in the curtains at the night sky.

“Do you think they do room service on this thing?” He asked. His stomach rumbled as if on cue.

“Doubt it, nice as that would be.” Charles said mournfully. Erik eyed him suggestively.

“Couldn’t you give it a bit of-” he wiggled two fingers next to his temple to imitate Charles’ powers. Charles raised an eyebrow.

Ten minutes later Charles was shutting the door on a very dazed member of the serving staff, who was trying desperately to account for the last few minutes of his life as Charles handed Erik a bowl of treacle sponge and custard and a spoon. Erik looked at the meal Charles had acquired for them.

“It’s all they had left.” Charles said defensively, digging his spoon into the sponge and taking a large mouthful.

Erik ate slowly, watching Charles lick a drop of custard from the corner of his mouth.

“You know,” Erik said, “it’s not terrible.”

“No,” mumbled Charles around his mouthful of sponge, “it’s pretty good.”

Erik chuckled, licking the back of his spoon. He didn’t really enjoy sweet things often, but he was developing a taste for them lately.

“I meant it’s not terrible being here with you.” Charles looked at him, the spoon hanging out of his mouth. Erik moved his hand and the spoon flicked Charles in the nose.

“Thank you,” Charles replied, wiping custard off the end of his nose. Erik stole the bowl back and put another spoonful of pudding in his mouth before he could say anything else.

“So,” Erik said after a moment. “Where are we going again?”

The look Charles gave him could only be described as devious, and Erik found that he liked that look very much indeed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this seems a little out of character or if there are some gaps in the plot; I'm only going by the films I've seen but I love the dynamic and banter between these two.


End file.
